


Love Languages

by deadinderry



Category: Guns N' Roses
Genre: like i say that a lot but i mean it this time, this is literally the stupidest thing ive ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 13:09:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21137234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadinderry/pseuds/deadinderry
Summary: Izzy Stradlin is walking, smoking, thinking about finding a cup of coffee or something somewhere when someone lands on his back.





	Love Languages

**Author's Note:**

> honestly man, this is just--i'm just entertaining myself at this point, i just like making them interact

Izzy Stradlin is walking, smoking, thinking about finding a cup of coffee or something somewhere when someone lands on his back.

He stumbles forward, jerks around, and, on instinct, slams his back into the closest pole. He hears an, “_ow_,” and then the arms are no longer around his neck and he spins around to face a small blond dude rubbing the back of his head. One of the kids him and Axl met up with to maybe make a band with—the drummer.

Steven Adler.

“Don’t fucking do that,” Izzy says.

“Oh, good, I’m right, it was you,” Steven says. He meets Izzy’s eyes and grins. “I _thought _it was.”

Izzy is briefly concerned with the fact that Steven will just leap onto anyone’s back if he even thinks there’s a _chance _he knows them, and then decides he doesn’t care. “Yeah, don’t fucking do that.”

“Sorry,” Steven says. He’s still rubbing at his head. “Man, you were _prepared_, though.”

“Yeah,” Izzy says, pausing briefly. Then he starts walking again. Steven bounds forward the couple of steps to keep them even and walks with him.

“Where’re you going?”

“Nowhere,” Izzy says.

Steven laughs. “You sound like my parents when they ask each other where _I’m _going.”

Izzy snorts, a little, and glances over at Steven, whose smile widens when he sees Izzy laugh. “Are you coming with me?” Izzy says.

“Yeah,” Steven says. “Is—that’s okay, right?”

Izzy shrugs. “Will you stop if I say no?”

“Yeah, probably not.”

So they end up walking for a while until they come up on a record shop. Steven immediately zeroes in on KISS and Izzy picks through Zeppelin and Pink Floyd for a while. He’s pretty sure that neither of them have enough cash to buy anything they really want, and anything they do have enough cash for is dumb or they already have, but it’s fun to look. Steven babbles, a lot, while he’s looking. Izzy is sort of tuning him out. He just chainsmokes and flips through records and, every once in a while, glancing up to see what the fuck Steven’s doing. He’s made friends with a couple of girls who came in and is talking to them about… something.

He ends it with, “—yeah, that’s great, see you then!” and then he’s back at Izzy’s side. “Man, they’re cool.”

“Good-looking,” Izzy mumbles around his cigarette.

“Oh, definitely, both of them, ten outta ten, but also they were so _nice_. And oh man, that one had a nice set of tits.”

Izzy laughs again, a little—he can’t help it, the whiplash between the earnest, ‘wow people are nice’ and the probably equally as earnest ‘would bang her’ is funny. And Steven smiles at him even when he’s saying, “What?”

“Nothing,” Izzy says. He shakes his head and then jerks it to the door. “You hungry? I’ll buy.”

So they end up getting something at some cheap place somewhere and carrying it out until they find a place to sit down. Izzy’s not sure he should’ve bought Steven a pop, given the fact that he’s already probably the most hyperactive motherfucker on the planet, but he did—if they do build a band with this guy and his friend, man, it’s going to be interesting to see how him and Axl get along. The thing is, Izzy’s realizing the longer he hangs around this kid, from what he’s said and done, is how he seems pretty concerned with three things: making people happy, making people like him, and getting high. From what he’s said it seems to be mostly pot, but Izzy’s pretty sure he does or would like heroin, and dear _God_, Steven Adler on cocaine’s gotta be something to behold, but even the drugs seem to be a sort of symptom of the one thing that the kid seems to be chasing beyond everything else: happiness.

Which is like, kind of sad.

“This is nice,” Steven says. He had some sandwich that is half-gone already. “You’re super cool, man, you’re the coolest person I’ve ever met.”

Izzy snorts.

“No, seriously,” Steven says. “Like, I can’t tell what you’re thinking, you’re all mysterious, and cool, and you’ve got like, man, you’re the dark and mysterious one, you know? Super handsome.”

Izzy turns a little red and shakes his head. “Yeah, you gotta not do this, too.”

“No jumping on your back and no complimenting you, got it,” Steven says. “You’re killing my love languages.”

“Your _what_.”

Steven breezes past it. “—anyway, I was talking to Slash, and he’s like, and I’m also like, we’d really like to be in the band with you guys, you know? And he’s a real good guitarist.”

They jammed. Izzy knows Slash is a fucking good guitarist. He also knows that Steven seems to be pretty good on the drums, too—instinctually. The way that Steven pounds on the kit is in a way that can’t exactly be taught. “Depends on Axl,” Izzy says, shrugging. He takes a drink of his pop. “Both of you guys’re good. It’ll be weird to have another guitar up there, but he can solo and shit, so.”

“Yeah?” Steven says. “Cool. That’s cool.” He glances up, looks around, and then stands up abruptly. “Oh, fuck, I’m late. I gotta go. Thanks for lunch, man, I love you!”

And he’s gone.

“What the fuck,” Izzy says to the half-sandwich that Steven left behind. And he can’t even tell Steven not to say that he loves him, because that motherfucker is _gone_.


End file.
